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life poem

in september
earth travails
with lips blood red and heart of stone
over the river, on the hill
i have heard that a certain princess
awful truths these be
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
the mountains they are silent folk
often is it not so?
and how could you dream of meeting
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
there is an hour of peaceful rest
he'd even have his joke

 



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